Revelations
by exultation
Summary: Harry and Ron talk in the snow. [Complete, fluff, light HarryxRon]


Title: Revelations

Warning: Harry x Ron x Harry

Disclaimers: Harry Potter is J.K. Rowling's. 

Comments: This is complete fluff, written at 5 o'clock in the morning. Please don't eat me.

  
  
  
The first day of snow. Fresh white carpets laid out, smooth and brilliant. The firs still with their green coats on, a pale dusting of the earlier storm over them. The air is crisp, clean, cool and filled with the soft sound of birds. The day is unsullied yet and morning stretches in the sky. 

Amidst the stillness, a bundle of black on white. Pale hands stretch out lazily, pawing at the gently falling snowflakes. Brilliant green eyes are open and staring, drinking in the blue-grey morning sky. The boy almost blends in, although the black of his robes and hair clashes with the snow. He is sprawled out, lying on the ground, long limbs thrown about carelessly. It is cold out this morning, and a pink flush stains his cheeks.

Harry Potter had woken up early, before sunrise, right before the storm had subsided. Woken up suddenly and stared out of his dorm window into the swirling darkness. At the first sign of light, he'd pulled on black school robes and tromped out into the fresh snow. 

"Harry!" Something red and black and white is hurtling towards him. 

Harry doesn't bother sitting up because he knows he will be tackled down anyway.

"Damnit, Harry, I've been looking half the school grounds for you!" Ron Weasley is flushed, freckled and looks like a strawberry with white sugar dusting on top.

Harry licks his lips and offers the boy a smile. "Couldn't help it. It was beautiful." He eyes the snowflakes lying on Ron's head.

Ron stares down at him. Harry has the feeling that his best friend is exasperated. He licks his lips again, smiling.

"Well, you could've invited me for this spot of morning indulgence, you know. I like a bit of romping at ungodly hours too." Ron seems to get a bit redder. "In the snow, I mean. In the morning. Romping in the snow. With the snow. I mean, you know."

Harry sometimes wonders if he was born evil. "Next time. Come sit, Ron." He absently pats the snow beneath his hands.

Ron sits, still red in the face. "Uh. Damn, it's cold! The snow is soaking through my– um. Nevermind. So how long have you been out here, Harry?"

"Since sunrise." Harry can't feel the cold. He supposed years of living in a cupboard with no heating did that to you. "You were sleeping."

"Oh, since– since _sunrise_? That was ages ago!" Ron turns to Harry, eyes wide. "You've been sitting out here in _those_ robes?"

Harry said simply, "I'm not cold." 

"You could have caught the death– oh. Yes, well. Okay." Ron blushes again and looks away.

"It's pretty, isn't it? Ron."

"Wha–... What is?"

Harry stares at the back of Ron's head. "The snow." He wonders if the snow melts faster on Ron than it does on his own body. "Look... the trees. And it's so calming."

"Oh, the snow. Yeah. Yeah, it's fantastic. Bloody brilliant. Except it's cold. And well, yeah, I know snow is usually cold, but it's really nice to look at all the same. But I wish that it wouldn't melt, you know, especially when I'm sitting on it 'cause it keeps melting and soaking right through to my– um. Sorry. Babbling." Ron absent-mindedly packs a snowball between his hands.

"It's okay." It is silent for a long time and Harry wonders what the snowball feels like, being pressed together and rubbed between Ron's hands. He decides it must be happy. Happy and warm. "Why were you looking for me?"

Ron falls back into talking with relief. "Ah, Hermione made me. You weren't in bed when I got up, so I just thought you'd gone to the bathroom or something. Herm and I were waiting for you in the common room for breakfast, but you didn't come back."

Harry's fingers creep out, stopping inches from Ron's robes.

Ron seems to notice and starts talking faster. "A–And well, you know her. Women. Her. She got all paranoid and panicky and told me to go look for you. Can't believe her. Worrying and all. I mean, you're not gonna go anywhere. Unless of course you'd been kidnapped. Then, well. Okay. Maybe she wasn't that paranoid–"

"Ron."

"Uh, yes. Harry?" Ron is blinking quickly, chewing on one side of his bottom lip.

"If Herm hadn't asked you to come look for me, would you?"

Ron whips his head around to look at Harry. Harry blinks a bit, stunned. There is a bright fierce look in Ron's eyes and he bends closer to Harry, breath hissing.

"Of course."

Harry stares up at Ron. He wished he were a happy snowball.

The fierceness fades a bit, and Ron straightens and gives Harry a small smile. "If not who would I have breakfast with?"

Harry thought maybe there _was_ something more beautiful than snow after all. His hand creeps over to Ron's gloved ones. Ron's mouth opens soundlessly and he stares at Harry, who smiles back.

"Um. Um. Well. A–Anyway. So I told Hermione she was paranoid. Absolutely off her rocker. Barmy. I mean, it's Hogwarts, right? Thinking about how many times she's read that book about its history, I'd have thought she would've known it's safe. Well, relatively safe. Except the parts about you nearly dying while still in Hogwarts. And the Chamber of Secrets. And the Forbidden Forest. And the spiders. The giant ones. The ones that uh– nearly bit our heads off. I have a point to this, you know. I think it's that Hogwarts is safe. Damn it. Maybe Hermione _was_ right–"

"Shut up, Ron."

Silence for a moment before Ron flushes, then grins widely. "Let's go get breakfast, Harry." Ron stands up, brushes off his robes and offers a hand to Harry.

His hand is inviting with the promise of warmth and while they are heading back to the castle, Harry finds that maybe he _was_ cold after all.

_  
  
~finis_

  
  



End file.
